


The Dawn of the Elves

by Elaur



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elaur/pseuds/Elaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This little fic has been rolling around in my head for years now, ever since I read The Silmarillion, and I was never quite satisfied with what Tolkien wrote about what happened when the Elves first awoke on Middle-earth.  He basically glosses over it, giving very little detail, but what is there was so intriguing, at least to me.  I don’t blame him for not writing more, he had a much bigger story to tell after all, and that was a minor moment in the span of Elvish history.  But that’s where fanfic writers come in, isn’t it?  To fill in all the little chinks and holes that fans are interested in.</p><p>I’m personally not big on research, like having 6 books open at once and poring over facts, when I just want to sit and write.  But I wanted to give this justice—it’s about Tolkien Elves after all!  So I never began… until my good friend and porn!sister Persephone gifted me The Encyclopedia of Arda app for my iPad.  And that inspired me to begin.</p><p>It’s not comprehensive, and I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff that a Tolkien scholar would argue with me about, but I’m not interested in that—I made a lot of stuff up after all!</p><p>When I first heard it in my head it unfolded like a tale that a parent, or grandparent, would tell young children.  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Dawn of the Elves

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic has been rolling around in my head for years now, ever since I read The Silmarillion, and I was never quite satisfied with what Tolkien wrote about what happened when the Elves first awoke on Middle-earth. He basically glosses over it, giving very little detail, but what is there was so intriguing, at least to me. I don’t blame him for not writing more, he had a much bigger story to tell after all, and that was a minor moment in the span of Elvish history. But that’s where fanfic writers come in, isn’t it? To fill in all the little chinks and holes that fans are interested in.
> 
> I’m personally not big on research, like having 6 books open at once and poring over facts, when I just want to sit and write. But I wanted to give this justice—it’s about Tolkien Elves after all! So I never began… until my good friend and porn!sister Persephone gifted me The Encyclopedia of Arda app for my iPad. And that inspired me to begin.
> 
> It’s not comprehensive, and I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff that a Tolkien scholar would argue with me about, but I’m not interested in that—I made a lot of stuff up after all!
> 
> When I first heard it in my head it unfolded like a tale that a parent, or grandparent, would tell young children. Enjoy!

Gather, Children of Men, and hearken to the tale of the coming of the Firstborn to Arda, long before the First Age of the world, for though they are gone forever from the lands of their awakening, they must never be forgotten...

In the beginning, before the Sun and Moon were in the sky, there was no reckoning of the passage of time, and thus, when the Firstborn, known in the common tongue as Elves, first opened their eyes, they lay for a time unknown, beholding above them the blaze of Elbereth's wheeling stars, their glitter ever entrancing them, even unto their eventual passing to the West.

They lay in utter bliss, cradled on the soft sands of the shore, their newly-formed ears attuned to the Songs of the stars, the singing of the water falling on the rocks of the mountain, and, in their minds, the memory of the Music of Creation.

Two memories they held fixed within them at the dawning of their time, and they were thus: The first was of The One, named Ilúvatar, a vision of such indescribable beauty and bliss that it kept them immovable and their flesh unknown to them until the needs of their bodies eventually caused them to be distracted. The second memory was of the Music of the Ainur, which they could hear in the song of the stars and the lapping waves of the inland sea, which they later named Cuiviénen, the Water of Awakening. Thus it was that the Elves discovered their voices, and each other, as their singing joined with that of the stars and the water.

In his wisdom, Ilúvatar gave the Elves this gift of memories that their continued singing of the Songs of Creation in that blissful, immovable state matured their minds, and understanding of the world came to them, for they lay unprotected and vulnerable in the darkness of Arda. The Valar yet knew not of their coming, and Melkor's demon spies roamed the land.

Their singing also caused certain plants, now lost to us who live under the sun, to grow around their bodies in the blazing starlight, to flower and fruit, and thus when the Elves felt the first pangs of hunger, there was sustenance at hand.

At some unknowable point in time, their attention was diverted from the stars and singing, for as the needs of their bodies became known to them, they sat up and finally knew of each other: radiant beings that shone with their own inner starlight.

How long they spent in the discoveries of the needs and pleasures of the flesh cannot even be guessed at, for Elves do everything slowly and relish each act as if done anew. Sating of the flesh for Elves is not as dire a need as it is for mortal Men, for it takes untold years to kill an Elf from lack of food and water, as Melkor and his servants found out.

No doubt in that time, they discovered other pleasures that come naturally to living beings, and in due course, they learned that they could increase their number. Thus, on the shores of that gentle lapping sea, they saw themselves as kindred. Quendi they called themselves, Those That Speak With Voices, for as they roamed wider and wider from the waters of their awakening, they met up with other of Ilúvatar's creatures, those that roamed freely and those that delved their roots deep into the earth, that had no voice as they did, their songs an immutable part of their earthly flesh and unknown to themselves.

And so the Elves began to name the creatures and plants of their realm, including each other, and a few of these first of the Firstborn, such as Ingwë and Olwë, kings of their peoples, have passed into legend, although to our knowledge they live still in the Undying Lands of Aman.

This idyllic existence lasted only until the foul spies of Melkor found them, attracted by their singing and joyous laughter like moths to flame. At first the radiance and beauty of these new beings on the face of Arda brought a terrible fear to these servants of the Dark Lord, and they kept a goodly distance, but they stayed ever watchful. There was no understanding of what they saw in their charred hearts and minds, and their only desire was to destroy the beauty that had been denied them.

Elves soon learned that there was unseen lethal danger in the darkness of the wooded hills above the shores of their home, and fear, along with grief, entered their hearts for the first time. Abruptly curtailed shrieks heard from afar, and missing kinfolk who never returned from their wanderings caused the Elves to turn their minds towards protecting themselves, and thus they continued, like all guileless children learning of the world, to grow in knowledge and experience; for does not adversity hone the intelligence of all conscious beings? Such is the far-seeing wisdom of Ilúvatar.

No longer did lone Elves go innocently wandering away from their kindred to merely satisfy idle curiosity, for the Shadow Hunter would claim them. It soon became impossible to capture an Elf without forcing the fell creatures to show themselves, something they were loth to do. For all the hatred in their twisted souls, in the face of such beauty they were ashamed. So their attention turned to the youngest members of the Elf Kindred, those foolish enough to escape from the watchful eyes of their parents, and those that could be lured out alone through their compassion by the cries of injured creatures in the dark.

It is said that at first, these still-unseen horrors slaked their wicked hungers on the flesh of the Firstborn until they tired of it. Then Melkor, in his malice, conceived of a plan to twist them to his own evil purposes. They captured and brought alive as many Elves as they could to the fell lair of their Master, and legend has it that from these poor hapless ones the foul race of Orcs began. For there was nothing the Dark Lord, and the minions who were slaves to his will, desired more than the perversion of Ilúvatar's creation and their power over it.

The wheel of Elbereth's stars turned many times and the Firstborn understood the passage of time at last. As they became numerous upon the shores of Cuiviénen, they learned to weave cloth from the soft grasses around them and fashioned clothing for their own amusement. They wove each others hair with increasingly intricate designs, and decorated themselves with flowers and strung-together pebbles and cast-off shells they found, so that their every movement made a tinkling music, similar to the sound of their laughter. They blew through hollow reeds and stamped their feet and clapped their hands for rhythm, and created dances that gave them great joy, remembered even down through the long ages.

It was then that Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar, found them at last.

~~~

Oromë visited Middle-earth on many an occasion, for the joy of the hunt and to see how Ilúvatar's creation fared under the starry twilight, but also searching for those who were foretold. Long had the Valar awaited the coming of the Firstborn, and long had Oromë searched in vain.

At this time, he had ridden much farther East than he had before, following the spoor of Melkor's demon servants, disturbed at their prowling so distant from Utumno, their fortress in the North. Something was afoot and Oromë would find out what.

At the first he mistook the far-off sounds he heard for the roar of a great waterfall, but then the roar changed to a sweet high singing woven through with deeper male voices in harmony. It made the half-grown dreaming trees around him shiver and he felt his own skin prickle in response, for the song was strangely familiar to him. He led his steed out from the young wood to look upon an inland sea fed by the streams from the mountains. Upon the shores milled a radiant people.

He discerned at once that he looked upon the Firstborn, and was besotted. He rode slowly down the gentle slope of the hill and came to them in joy but they cried out in fear of him and his steed, retreating before him like the surf back to the sea. Oromë was disheartened by this: that they should show such fear at their awakening. But understanding came to him that they had awoken some time ago, for they had little ones among them, and they had covered their bodies with cloth made from the grasses of the fields.

He rode closer but many fled from him, some into the sea, and some back into the wood, to be lost forever. He dismounted and spoke to them gently, saying, "Fear not, my children. I welcome you to Arda, for long have you been awaited," and their fear left them a little.

Their gaze filled with wonder at seeing another being with speech as they had. A few were emboldened, wiser than most, and approached the great Vala, for they saw the light of Aman in his face and understood he was not the Shadow Hunter come into their midst at last. No doubt it had been Melkor's intention that the Firstborn run in fear from the Vala that sought them out. But the Dark Lord could not foresee the affinity the Firstborn would hold in their hearts for such an exalted being as one of the Valar.

Oromë came among them, arms outspread in joy, marveling at their beauty and purity. Some shyly sought him out, curious, touching the rich cloth of his tunic, his plaited hair, even the short beard on his face. He laughed, and they laughed with him.

Oromë stayed with them for a time, teaching them many things. He spoke of Ilúvatar and the other Valar and of Melkor in the north, and how they had awaited their coming which was foretold. How Varda Elentári, the Vala known to us as Elbereth, in her love for the Firstborn, fashioned the brightest stars above against their coming, the greatest Work since the creation of Arda itself. Thus he named the Firstborn Eldar, Star People, for they revered the stars, the first things they beheld at their awakening.

Oromë taught them many things and one of these things caused a first sundering in the hearts of the Quendi: he taught them to hunt. The Firstborn understood what death was from the Shadow Hunter and from the other creatures of Arda, but had not thought of themselves as causing it.

Oromë took those who were eager to learn into the woods above the sea and coaxed the trees there to give up some of their living wood. From these living branches he fashioned bows and strung them with fine plaits of the Elves' own hair, made arrows and fletched them with the wood's living leaves. These bows were long treasured by the Quendi for their incomparable accuracy and speed, but were in time lost to them during the Wars of Beleriand in the First Age.

He taught them stealth and tracking, and in this age even the craftiest and skilled of hunters can never compare with the hunting ability of the Firstborn, taught by Oromë himself.

He taught them to hunt that which hunted them, and thus they laid eyes at last upon the horrors which hid in the dark, and they rejoiced at their new-found power.

He taught them to hunt for meat, and cook it with fire, and this is what caused a sundering amongst the Elves. There were those eager for new food, for the pleasures of the body were great. There were others who despised the killing of another living being to satisfy a physical hunger, when there were plants to give up their fruits and leaves, and not die from it.

Oromë did indeed agree that all of Ilúvatar's creatures were to be honored, and demanded from the new hunters their oath to not kill needlessly and without cause, to be grateful to the creatures whose lives they took, for to disregard this was to embrace the evil of Melkor. Thus their discord was appeased, but yet there were many who refused to touch meat.

Oromë told the Quendi many tales of Valinor, the great city of the Valar, in Aman, and the light of the Two Trees, the bountiful gardens there, and other incomprehensible marvels. In the telling, Oromë became desirous of returning home, and conceived to bring the Firstborn with him, for surely the other Valar longed to behold them at last.

Thus came about the first Great Sundering of the Quendi.

~~~

Many of the Quendi became desirous of following Oromë back to Aman, to see these wonders for themselves, yet many also wished not to leave their home on the banks of Cuiviénen.

There were many of the wise who counseled for going, with three of the most wise, leaders of their clans, Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë, the most unrelenting. Those Elves who could not decide were finally swayed into making the journey.

Oromë did not interfere, only gave them ten turnings of the great wheel of stars before he would depart, with or without them.

Thus the Great Sundering of the Quendi came to pass, and Ingwë, now as High King of the Eldar, led his people out from the land of their awakening, and those that refused the summons were forevermore called Avari, the Unwilling. They dwelt in the greenwood and did not build nor pass on lore and so their history has passed into legend.

Three kindreds of the Eldar set out on the Great Journey: the Vanyar, led by Ingwë, High King; the Noldor, led by Finwë, whose son Fëanor created the Silmarils in Aman; and the Teleri, largest of the clans, and the slowest moving, led by the brothers Olwë and Elwë. The March took many hundreds of years by our reckoning, and many of the Teleri turned aside, some at the Great Greenwood, and some at the place come to be known as Lorien, the Golden Wood. They became known as Silvan Elves. Much later, when the Teleri at last reached the Great Sea and the other two kindreds had already crossed, they bided a while in the land called Beleriand, waiting for the Vala Utmo to return with his island for the crossing. Those that stayed in Beleriand are known as the Sindar.

Of the crossing into Aman and of the Eldar dwelling there, much is written in lore, so here ends the tale of the Awakening of the Elves in Arda.

But hearken, Children of Men, let not their tales be forgotten and let not the passing of all the Eldar to the West from Middle-earth dismiss them from the minds and hearts of Men, for we shall be otherwise much diminished.


End file.
